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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24735622">Go ahead, bury me, this is how I thrive</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThunderingShizuo/pseuds/ThunderingShizuo'>ThunderingShizuo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Kingdom Hearts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Depressing Thoughts, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Mild Gore, Unrequited Love, Vanitas is vomiting blood, Vomiting, disturbing imagery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:20:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,004</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24735622</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThunderingShizuo/pseuds/ThunderingShizuo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Spending time with Sora was exhausting.</p><p>The boy was a bountiful source of conversations. Even when Vanitas did not actively participate in them, the other boy still found a way to continue talking, talking, talking.</p><p>That was why the first time Vanitas started coughing in the other's presence, he did not pay it any mind, too busy trying to keep up with the conversation.</p><p>It turns out that forgotten seeds left neglected did grow wild.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sora/Vanitas (Kingdom Hearts)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Go ahead, bury me, this is how I thrive</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Sora never went missing after KH3. The Wayfinder trio brought Vanitas back from the Realm of Darkness.<br/>For the flower, I went with a red camellias.The Japanese meaning for red camellias are 'being in love; perishing with grace.'</p><p>English isn't my first language. If you see any mistake, please tell me. I'd be happy to correct them!</p><p>You can follow me on twitter at @shizuthundering !</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His lungs, always blanketing the core of his being with its warm, heated presence, stretched and shrank with habit as he scrutinized the hero of light. His half-heart, fragile in its shattered state, limped and moaned occasionally behind his ribs, yearning for something which he had yet to put a name on.</p><p>His venomous golden eyes trailed after Sora as he went on, talking with his friends and gesturing as if it could help him being understood better. His ocean floor blue optics seemed to gleam whenever the persons surrounding him answered him with equal enthusiasm. </p><p>Perhaps an hour passed and Vanitas continued to listen to the throb, thrush, bristle of his heart, feeling the never ending urge to reach out to the brightest light available at this time. Was it his darkness calling out for its light counterpart? He could not tell. He did not dare indulge himself. The emotions would be too much and his mind, much like his heart, could not bear to see a part of himself struggle more than it already had to.</p><p>This yearning, he learnt later on, was love.</p><p>- - - - - - - -</p><p>Spending time with Sora was exhausting.</p><p>The boy was a bountiful source of conversations. Even when Vanitas did not actively participate in them, the other boy still found a way to continue talking, talking, talking.</p><p>That was why the first time Vanitas started coughing in the other's presence, he did not pay it any mind, too busy trying to keep up with the conversation.</p><p>It turns out that forgotten seeds left neglected did grow wild.</p><p>The coughing grew worse over time. As if something was stuck at the back of his throat. He had just left the brunet's sides when finally-- finally! the discomfort disappeared and a petal, a single petal left his mouth, dropping like ashes onto his open palm.</p><p>It was red. Tiny. Coated in his own saliva. It perplexed him for he did not know how it got stuck there, right at the entrance of his trachea.</p><p>What puzzled him the most was the vibrant red of the petal. Shouldn't it have withered for staying so long inside of him..? His aurelian orbs rested, in deep concentration, upon the subject of his discombobulation but all of it was meaningless to him, painfully so. After some time, his jaw began to clench with anxiousness, and, doing so, the Unversed, those accursed feelings of his started churning inside of him. He felt his heart sinking amidst his lungs and he took a deep breath. </p><p>It felt liberating.</p><p>- - - - - - - -</p><p>The second time he coughed up petals, he was in the presence of Riku. Someone was bound to find out after all. The boy had been choosen to look over him. None of the guardians of light truly believed that he had changed side for the sole exception of Sora. Even Ventus, his other half was suspicious of him. 'You're coming home too' he had said yet, he had meant none of it. The two of them avoided each others like plague. There was an obvious, mutual dislike which arose within them whenever they were in the same place. These feelings of dislike and annoyance rose into the bitterness of hatred whenever Ventus talked to Sora.</p><p>The same bright red petal rested upon his palm and the champion of light's teal colored optics widened.</p><p>"Hanahaki."</p><p>It was the only word which had left his lips before a look of pity crossed his young features. It immediately caused within the dark being an outpouring of emotions. Anger first and foremost. How dare he pity him? It was the recurring thought swirling inside of Vanitas' mind as he summoned Void Gear.</p><p>An aura of darkness steeped around him like a black smog because of the Unversed contained within him, and the further he fought against the Keyblade Wielder, the more his malicious sentiments seeped out of the pores of his body, the smog around him vaporizing rapidly.</p><p>The whole clashing of Keyblades, magic and termination of the fight were the incidents of less than half an hour. The time for Vanitas to build up another coughing fit. There were sharp pains in his chest and dizziness then profuse coughing. It brought him to his knees, gasping for breath as he hacked once more. It reminded him of the time when he would throw up black goo, unable to control his own powers. Except this time, he was expectorating flowers instead of negative emotions.</p><p>"Hanahaki?" he demanded hoarsely of the boy who stood near him now.</p><p>Braveheart was nowhere in sight as Riku knelt next to him, setting a hand upon his shoulder.</p><p>"It's a disease, Vanitas." There it was again. The pity. He could hear it in the tone of his voice. Except this time, he didn't have the strength to fight. "Who is it that you love?"</p><p>And now that was acknowledged the presence of the illness, the question Riku asked him caught him off guard. It had come like a thief in the night. With rapid impetuosity, he wiped at his mouth and, with rage and shame rushed hurriedly away from the boy. </p><p>– – – – – – – </p><p>Hanahaki, Vanitas learnt, was a disease which was primarily attacking lungs, the roots of the flowers sometimes going as far as wriggling their way to the heart of the person infected. It was especially dangerous to those with existing respiratory conditions and was fatal to those who did not get their love returned. Unchecked, it could lead to asphyxiation, the eventual evisceration of the trachea and even internal bleeding due to the roots stalling to other organs.</p><p>Of course, existed a solution. The surgery entailed removing the roots of the flowers growing inside the lungs. However, upon the removal of the roots, the patient also ceased to love the person the disease had appeared for. They ceased to love at all.</p><p>This got Vanitas to pause in his lecture, the Gummiphone he had been given resting on his lap. How could this be possible? How could unrequited love turn into a disease, the dark being failed to understand. But what befuddled him the most was the fact he was in love with someone.</p><p>How could it be when he had carefully avoided the people of this island as much as he was allowed to?  He did not think he was capable of loving anyone if the first place. Then it hit him.</p><p>He was going to die.</p><p>He was going to die because he did not even know the person he was in love with. And if by any stroke of luck, he were to find who it was... Who would want to love a weak abomination such as him?</p><p>An hysterical laughter started building at the back of his throat. His broad shoulders shook with it. After being saved by the guardians of light, he was going to die because of one of them. Who else could it be after all?</p><p>His pulse quickened when he realized that another coughing fit was on the verge of making its appearance. Panic rose like tidal waves as he started hacking instead of laughing. His breathing became strangled, shallow until a clump of red petals exited his mouth. The vivid red of the flower was however tarnished by a deeper, crimson color. </p><p>Blood.</p><p>As he took a deep breath, Vanitas could have sworn he heard rustling inside his lungs.</p><p>– – – – – – – </p><p>Talking to anyone about it was out of question. When Riku confronted him about it once again, he threatened him into silence. Truth be told, he was not quite sure it would work on the silver haired boy but upon seeing that no one else gave him pitying glances, he supposed he had not told a single soul.</p><p>After all, what could anyone do? They all pretty much hated his guts for being a former Seeker of Darkness. For messing with their lives. And if they did not, they clearly would be indifferent to his fate. He was a hindrance. Someone to watch closely. Nothing close to a friend or even an acquaintance.</p><p>He was going to throw up.</p><p>His chest cavity felt like it was on fire. He was hacking again. Taking short, sharp breaths. Before hacking again. And again. And again. Without ever stopping. </p><p>Emotions unraveled his bones, and how the flesh could fall off of them in that instant. It was overwhelming. Too much. He was going to pass out.</p><p>There was a pressure crushing his rib cage, pushing air out of his lungs without he could take any in. It was a lot. It was too much. And at the end of each cough it had that wet whistling sound, leaving his throat bare.</p><p>That was until finally, finally! he regurgitated a whole flower. Red. A red camellia. Dripping with blood. His wheezing eventually came to a stop after a few minutes of staring intently at the efflorescence laying still on the ground. Vanitas had almost expected it to start crawling. But nothing of the sort happened.</p><p>His condition was growing worse with each days passing, he realized. It wouldn't be long for him to succumb to this stupid illness.</p><p>– – – – – – – </p><p>Spending time with Sora was exhausting.</p><p>The champion of light always was so hyperactive it gave him a headache. However this time, it was the incessant questioning that was tiring.</p><p>"Are you sure you're okay? You look like you've seen better days, Van."</p><p>There it was. The shortening of his name. As if they were closer than they truly were. It caused in him a stir.</p><p>Positive emotions were still a source of trouble for him, of confusion—they were perhaps the one collective that he could not wrap his mind around. When you had lived a life of being splenetic, when the only emotion you could feel yourself ever feeling was anger, when your very sanity depended on quelling and crushing every want of your soul—confusion was all there was when presented with warmth, affection, concern. </p><p>A part of him still was in a state of disbelief that he had, perhaps, found a sense of belonging in what he was never meant to claim as his— a known existence. Within Sora's presence, it rose to a completely different level of confoundment, and while a part of him found itself in a state of turmoil from it all, the other part wanted nothing more but to drown in it, revel in it and accept whatever this was. The soldier in him wanted to pry himself from him, to remind him that there were shackles once attached to his ankles that at some point would return him to his imprisonment. He was tied to darkness after all.</p><p>His golden optics flickered back to meet those hypnotizing ocean blue eyes. They always drew him in.</p><p>How it irked him that he managed to ensnare him so.</p><p>"I'm fine," he finally croaked, his throat feeling like it was on fire. He's had a coughing fit not that long ago.</p><p>Sora's concerned expression did not disappear. Instead, he rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing the muscles he found there. His touch scraped like ice, but breathed like fire. As soon as he tensed, he removed said hand and a part of him was glad he did. That illumination, the smudge of desolate familiarity in all individual’s hearts, immediately vanished as his uneasy visage softened.</p><p>"You know you can talk to me."</p><p>The corners of his mouth uplifted, the rows of pearls in his mouth bared in a face that came with a bite. It was bitter.</p><p>"I said I'm fine, Sora."</p><p>With that, he gracefully collected his mien in such a way that illustrated him as a phantom thriller– an individual of authority, power, and self-control, carefully cultured under harsh conditions and discriminatory circumstances. His broad shoulders were pulled back as he took a deeper breath. </p><p>It rustled in his lungs.</p><p>Sora gave him an unsure look before offering him a meek smile. It was now a dead calm, with the sea of Sora's eyes as smooth as he had ever known it.</p><p>Vanitas spent the remainder of the day in some sort of lethargy, gazing after the hero of light as they trained together. Sora even managed to knock Void Gear out of his hand at one point, thing which had never happened before. The confusion which ensued among the two of them at this unexpected turn of event, none of them dared addressing it.</p><p>The silence which settled then was bleak and abysmal. This was an anomaly. Even as dense as Sora was, Vanitas could tell he was convinced something was wrong with him. His Keyblade disappeared in a teal blue smoke as his golden optics avoided Sora's pointed glare. His body began to tense and the halcyon of his sun-seared gaze narrowed with anticipation. His body steadily fell into flux and urgency. His shoulders, broad and square, began to stiffen as his legs hastened into a slow jog– faster, and faster he picked up the pace ! </p><p>"Van! At least tell me what's wrong!"</p><p>It was the only plea he heard before he disappeared in a corridor of darkness.</p><p>– – – – – – – </p><p>Spending time with Sora was exhausting.</p><p>Vanitas understood the reason why after vomiting one fully formed camellia, just like he always did after his encounters with the hero of light. The air from his lungs had begun to evaporate, and the blood in his veins begun to boil—there was desire in his mind, greed in his heart, and lust on his tongue, yet the contagion that diseased his very body, was what he was wanted more than anything else. He was in love with Sora of all people.</p><p>Pinpointing the very moment positive feelings had started blossoming within his chest was not that difficult. It probably was their third and last meeting as Guardian of Light and Seeker of Darkness. When Sora had stubbornly wanted to save him, make him a part of light, instead of darkness, trying to convince him. Unlike Ventus who had immediately given up. He had grinned then, not knowing what this sensation had been as he disappeared.</p><p>His fate had been sealed then. It only had grown worse when Sora started giving him gentle smiles, spared with him without any ill intentions, told him things such as 'you can tell me anything, Van'. As if they were friends. As if they could ever be more.</p><p>No one could control a heart's wish. The flowers that were blooming inside of his chest were proof enough.</p><p>There was a vicious tug in between his lungs and for a solid minute, Vanitas thought that he was about to pass out. His trachea became almost absurdly narrow as he heaved again.</p><p>The excruciating pain was more severe this time than he had felt previously. An animalistic sound left his throat, primal and pained. The heavy mass made its way out of his throat, followed by blood which he spat on the floor beneath him.</p><p>He was dying and there was no way Sora would ever return his feelings.</p><p>The burning lacerations of his trachea and throat ached. Bringing a hand to his chest, Vanitas attempted to find his breathing again.</p><p>Surgery... was out of question. It was... his very first positive feeling. And even if it currently was killing him, he wished to cherish it, even for the little while he had left to live. It was not like he had anything else to live for either way. Surgery meant never knowing this feeling again.</p><p>For a moment, he laid on that floor, eyes soft and blank, but soon his shoulders caved in on itself and began to pick the rest of his limbs off the floor. Stumbling to his feet, he caught his breathe, and droplets of water dripped from the edge of his nose, falling back down on the floor. A swift hand was raised as he realized those pearls were in fact tears that had welled up at the corner of his eyes and were now dripping down his nose and chin.</p><p>Alas, it was love– that hurried, heavy sensation pressed against one’s chest, threatening to seize and suffocate as his lungs collapsed on themselves, that would bring him down. Not a fight, like he had always thought he would go with.</p><p>– – – – – – – </p><p>"Why won't you try and confess?"</p><p>Riku.</p><p>"You look like you've seen better days, honestly."</p><p>It was true. Vanitas looked sickly. Paler than he was in reality. Thinner as well. Food was definitely hard to swallow. His shoulders ached carrying the weight of his heart’s incapability. He was a mess. Such a mess even Sora would notice and demand explanations.</p><p>"Because it's useless," he finally answered, his dull golden optics meeting the turquoise of the guardian's. "They don't feel the same way. And that's fine."</p><p>“Tch-” The slight amount of air that was necessary to create the disdainful sound was expelled out of the other boy's mouth and it was followed seconds later by a heavy sigh. "How can you know that for sure if you didn't tell them?" There was a pause in his speech before he began again. "Listen, we may not be friends but, even if it is hard to believe, I do care about you. We all do, in our own way. Don't give me that look, it's the truth. No one wants to see you dead."</p><p>Vanitas wanted to laugh. He truly did. However, he knew it would most likely trigger yet another coughing fit and he would much rather avoid that. Especially in front of the other boy.</p><p>"Their heart is somewhere else already," he settled on saying, closing his eyes for a brief second. As if the gesture might help keeping the pain he felt within in check.</p><p>It would have taken an idiot not to notice the way Sora looked at his two best friends. There was not a single place for a third person. Particularly not someone such as him. However, it did not seem to deter Riku who pushed on.</p><p>"Then take the surgery. This is going to kill you, Vanitas."</p><p>"I know that. But I can't."</p><p>If he did, he would forget this surge of positive emotions he felt whenever he was near Sora. Being around him taught him how it felt not to be feeling alone. All his life, despite his connection to Ventus, he had been isolated, in a room with no escape, where all he was forced to feel was through the connection, rendering him jealous, bitter, angry. But now, Sora had extended his arm toward him. He had pulled him out of the darkness he had stubbornly felt comfortable in. He had brought him in the light. Made him discover those pleasant feelings. Love, of course but also joy, gratitude, serenity, interest, hope, amusement and awe.</p><p>All of which Vanitas refused to lose.</p><p>– – – – – – – </p><p>Sora's gazes became lingering. His worry going crescendo. And Vanitas could barely blame him. At times, it felt like he was going to die on the spot, the roots, hard wired inside his chest cavity. Each time a coughing fit made its presence known with an awful tickling at the back of his throat, he disappeared before the hero of light could even call for him. The number of occurrences kept growing and with it, Sora's concern.</p><p>That was until he could not even breathe properly. He probably should just end it all here. A gurgle of laughter left his throat bare. He should end it all before Sora could find out about it. His hero complex surely would end up with him feeling guilty about him dying because of him.</p><p>He couldn't have that now, could he? Sora feeling guilty over his death. It sounded strange, even to his own ears.</p><p>It was yet another day closer to his demise when Sora approached him, determination clear in his azure gaze. </p><p>The sudden hug was stronger than anything he had known. It knocked the oxygen out of his body. The contact burnt against his pale skin. And as if holding him wasn't quite enough, Sora pressed into every ounce that was his darkness made flesh. In that moment, Vanitas felt more alive than he had felt in a very long time. His worries seemed to disappear, taken away by the gentle blowing wind, clearing the bright blue sky from its pregnant white clouds. His lungs cleared, even for a brief moment. No one had ever done that before. Dared showing him affection. Dared holding him.</p><p>For once, he was serene. No cough came forth. The tension in his muscles lessened, as if accepting the embrace. The molten gold of his venomous optics was hidden behind his eyelids as he leaned into it.</p><p>Vanitas could not see the surprise that Sora's expression painted then but he did feel the way he clutched at his tank top even tighter.</p><p>"Please Van, you have to see a doctor. I can see your health has only gotten worse. I'm not dumb, I can see you're trying to hide it from me."</p><p>The words, for a split second urged Vanitas to tell him. It would be quick. Over before he knew it. But the guilt Sora would carry for the rest of his life... he couldn't. It was bizarre. He had never truly cared about another person before. Perhaps Sora did bring out the best out of people. Even a being born from the darkest abyss.</p><p>It was folly to speak. His throat was far too damaged to even let a coherent sound out. Instead, he pulled away enough for Sora to understand he had something to say.</p><p>Those hypnotizing ocean blue were filled with fret and yet again, something he could not quite decipher. </p><p>It was barely there. A gentle curvature of his pale lips. It extended to his citrine hues, and deep into his soul. It was enough for Sora to smile back at him although it was not the usual full of sunshine beam. The brunet was about to open his mouth, most likely demanding him to at least consider seeing someone in order to save him when a sudden cough coming from Vanitas caught him off guard.</p><p>It was painful. In an instant, the dark being was on his hands and knees, blood pouring out of his mouth like a dam that had broken. It was then that the flowers started flowing out of his trachea into his mouth. If the first ones were spat away, it was getting harder to breathe due to the blood that kept cascading into his mouth.</p><p>The red camellias kept coming, further damaging his ripped open trachea. The fully bloomed flowers lodged into his lungs, their roots, they all felt like bits of shrapnels sinking further into his soft tissues. </p><p>Next to him, he could hear Sora's frantic calls for help. He wished he could tell him that it was fine. That all of this was his choice. That he was glad to depart from this world with him next to him. But he knew he just could not talk in that instant without vomiting an impressing amount of carmine liquid and efflorescences.</p><p>He couldn't breathe.</p><p>His fingers came up to claw at the skin of his throat, his blunt nails digging into it, as if ripping it open would somehow allow the flowers to be evacuated faster, would save his life.</p><p>He couldn't see.</p><p>Black spots had started dancing in front of his eyes. Engrossed in the darkness, his body began to slowly crumble, the disease's sheer existence imploding from the inside out like an erupting organ, seeping through his lungs and into his mouth.</p><p>He couldn't hear.</p><p>And then, an abysmal emptiness.</p><p>No sooner had the sounds of his heaving sunk into silence that it was answered by a sob, quickly surging into one long, loud and continuous scream, utterly heart wrenching and unfortunately human– a wailing yell, half of horror and half of pain.</p>
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